my rival milk
by blindmemories
Summary: Edward Elric has never liked milk. But when the Colonel gets involved, will Ed's fear dissipate or grow even larger?


my rival milk

This is just offensive. I stare at the milk carton sitting on the Colonel's desk. If this has anything to do with the mission Mustang wanted to discuss with me I'm going to murder him. The milk seems to stare at me, smiling smugly.  
"I've grown, you know," I say sulkily, crossing my arms and turning away from the cruel liquid.  
I look over my shoulder when the handle of the office door turns.  
"Talking to the milk, Elric?" The Colonel muses, stepping into the room with a stack of papers.

He sits down and starts signing papers and other random forms.

I imagine twisting his head off like a bottle cap and pouring his sorry insides out. Instead, I walk calmly over to the Colonel's desk and pick up the carton of milk. It's slightly wet with condensation and hard to keep in my hands. I pretend that Mustang's neck is in the place of the milk and squeeze. The cap flies off and the carton detonates, spraying milk all over the office. Colonel Mustang slowly stands, clenching his fists. He looks fairly intimidating except for the splatters of milk on his uniform that remind me a little of a cow milking gone wrong. I prepare to give him some lengthy reasoning for my misdeed, figuring that telling him that I was practicing for the time I would really strangle him wasn't exactly, acceptable.  
"Colonel, I'm sor-" I stop.  
Milk. I taste milk. In my throat. My eyes widen and I gag, scratching at my neck like maybe I could rip the milk out of my system. I flop down into a puddle of milk on the office floor, convulsing and twitching. I feel the milk gurgling out of my open mouth and down my cheek. Yucky.

"What is your history with dairy, Edward?" The Colonel asks, hostility straining against his smooth tone.  
"I have nothing against yogurt! OR CHEESE!" I rasp, flopping around in the abominable fluid.  
"Milk, I mean," Mustang re-states, his patience dive-bombing.  
I just stare at him from below, _I just swallowed milk_.  
The Colonel offers me a hand rather reluctantly, accommodated by an eye roll that he doesn't even attempt to conceal.  
I grumble and take his gloved hand. Pulling myself up, Colonel Mustang takes an unfortunate step into the slippery puddle of milk, dragging us both back down to the soggy ground where we land with an unpleasant splash.

"Damn you, Fullmetal," Mustang seethes, pushing himself off the ground, only to fall back down.  
"You're now going to have to complete the mission by force," he continues in a low, almost devilish voice.  
"Don't I _never_ get a choice?" I ask, a little too snarky because the Colonel flicks milk at my face.  
I make a scene to wipe it off before splashing Mustang back, milk flies everywhere. I grapple with the side of his desk, trying to get as far away from the Colonel as possible. My shoes are dripping milk and my automail has it gushing out of the sides like it's a drink dispenser.  
I watch Colonel Mustang from a few feet away as he smiles to himself and stands rather gracefully, milk oozing down his forehead like some sort of weird white sweat.  
"Get over here, Edward."

My legs are telling me to run before I'm strangled by my superior but I force them towards him until I'm standing in front of him. He looks down at me and I hunch in defeat, shortness.  
"Now, Edward Elric. Your mission was to overcome your shortness and phobia of milk."  
I find it odd that he's actually laughing to himself instead of trying to pull a knife on me.  
"But now, because of this inconvenience, I'll have to try another method," Colonel Mustang smirks and pulls out a thin bottle of milk that was tucked in his chest coat pocket.  
I don't know what is weirder, the Colonel carrying a little flask of milk everywhere or the sight of the Colonel covered in milk _showing_ me that he carries a flask of milk around.  
Before I can reply, Mustang has the flask uncapped and stuffed in my mouth. I flap my arms and try to push it away but the milk is already flowing through my system like a stream of acid.

"There. Are you still scared of milk?" The Colonel asks, pride written all over his face.  
I buckle over, milk aftertaste is worse than milk itself.  
"Sir...I think you made my fear worse," I force the words out, "now when I see milk, I don't only see a terrible white fluid that people nag me about but I see a crazed, milk-covered, colonel who's diligently trying to kill his subordinate, with milk."


End file.
